Something There
by Fiones
Summary: This wasn't exactly what Liz had been expecting when she received a call from UNIT.


**Written for ****agapi42** livejournal for the **dw_femslash** community ficathon. I've never written for Doctor Who before, let alone Old Who, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

**Something There**  
If this wasn't the biggest joke in the universe, she didn't know what was.

Except that the Brigadier wasn't a man of good humor, most of the time, and the girl standing before her seemed entirely serious. Now it wasn't that she didn't like the girl: quite the contrary, she was quite a pleasant person, and Liz had had such an exciting adventure alongside her foiling the plans of the Nestene Consciousness and the Autons and learning that, yes, aliens _are _real.

But the girl – Susan, right? – looked as if she had only just graduated secondary school **and **was on her way to University.

This _had _to be a joke.

Liz turned from Susan, who was looking at her expectantly, to the Brigadier, who was smartly avoiding her furious gaze. (There was no one else on the planet who could make the Brigadier quake with fear quite like Liz Shaw.) "You can't be serious."

"Miss Shaw," the Brigadier said, looking pointedly at her forehead, "I know that this might seem… unorthodox-"

"Unorthodox?!" Liz exclaimed with a laugh. "She barely looks twenty!"

"This might seem _unorthodox_," he continued, unwavering, "but I assure you, Miss Foreman is more than qualified for this position-"

"More qualified than _me_?" Liz interrupted him again, raising an eyebrow at him.

"_Yes."_

She glared at him, and he continued to avoid ever looking her directly in the eye. "How so?" she questioned, her voice calm and clear.

"Well," came a quieter, female voice and Liz turned to face Susan, who for the first time since this meeting had begun had spoken up. "I'm actually quite a bit older than I appear."

Liz's eyebrows rose again. "Is that so? How old are you, then?"

There was a pause as Susan contemplated how best to answer the question. Then her lips curled up in an almost sly smile. "Older than you. Older than him," she added, nodding towards the Brigadier. "I've lived a very long time, Miss Sha-"

"_Doctor _Shaw," Liz corrected her, shooting a glare at the Brigadier. It was bad enough that the man refused to address her properly: now he had Susan doing so as well.

"Right, sorry," Susan said quickly, apologetically. "As I was saying… I've lived a very long time, Dr. Shaw, and seen a number of strange and incredible things. More than you could possibly imagine!" She paused, as if expecting Liz to respond, but Liz only continued to look at her in silence. Susan blushed lightly with embarrassment, before continuing, her voice a bit shaky. "And, well, I've experienced a lot and _know _a lot, more than any human could learn in an entire lifetime. So… yes, I like to think I'm qualified for this. And I hope soon, you will think so too."

Silence descended on the trio: Liz staring intently at Susan, Susan staring nervously back, and the Brigadier looking between them uncertainly.

Finally, Liz spoke up. "What," she began, slowly, choosing her words carefully. "What _exactly _are you? You're not human."

Susan nodded. "No, I'm very much _not_. Which I know might be hard for you to believe, because I do look humanoid…"

"Let's say I do believe you," Liz continued. "What are you doing here?"

"Here on the planet or here in UNIT?"

"Both."

"Well, I'm here on Earth because I crash-landed here," Susan said, frowning at the memory. "And I'm here with UNIT because the Brigadier here has agreed to allow me full access to a decent workspace and tools to fix my ship with, in exchange of course for my help with… well, whatever they happen to need me for."

"In addition," the Brigadier added, "I once met Miss Foreman's grandfather. An exuberant man who called himself the Doctor. Quite a curious fellow, but reliable, and staggeringly brilliant. If Miss Foreman takes after him in any way – which I suspect she does – than having her among UNIT's ranks would be incredibly beneficial."

Another silence fell. Susan shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Liz stared her down. Finally, Susan gathered up her courage and said, "Dr. Shaw, I'd really love to have you working with me. I think there's so much we could learn from each other! I mean, you know this world so well, and I can tell you all about… well, the universe!"

Liz tapped her fingers lightly against her thigh, saying nothing. Susan gulped. "I'd appreciate your help. So much."

No response.

Finally, Liz sighed, and placed a hand to her temple, shutting her eyes tightly as if to block out this nightmarish situation. Opening one eye, she glanced at the Brigadier and in one last feeble attempt to make things right, said, "This is a joke. Right?"

The Brigadier merely shook his head.

ೡೡೡ

Liz heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. Amazing. Simply amazing. What on Earth did they take her for? This was _completely_ ridiculous.

And frankly, she wasn't quite sure what to make of Susan's story. On the one hand, Liz had already seen proof of alien life, so the idea that Susan could be one wasn't wholly unlikely. Unbelievable, surely, but not unlikely. But no matter how old Susan claimed to be, Liz just couldn't see her as anything other than a young girl. A young, inexperienced girl to boot! She had the book smarts, but book smarts wasn't all she needed. UNIT was, after all, a military organization dealing with dangerous extraterrestrial life. It wasn't the place for smart children to play.

But she did have to admit, it wasn't _quite _as bad as she had anticipated. _Quite_. Susan was a sweet girl, after all, and was always polite and respectful towards Liz and never acted as if she were superior. Her head wasn't that big.

And in some ways, Liz couldn't help but find the strange girl completely fascinating. Liz knew she was smart, but the depth of Susan's knowledge astounded her. It also caused Susan quite a lot of grief. Susan didn't like to be wrong. When Liz would challenge her on a matter (or if _anyone _challenged her, really, but mostly Liz,) Susan would quickly get irritated. She _needed _to be right. She needed to prove that she was right.

Half the time, she couldn't. And that made her more frustrated and angry. "It's just not _time_ yet!" Susan would argue, more to herself than anyone else, as if she had to prove, first and foremost _to _herself that she was right. Needed that validation. "It's not time. I don't have the right equipment I would need to show you what I mean."

"Ask the Brigadier," Liz would say, coolly. "I'm sure he could arrange for you to get the equipment you need."

And then Susan would fall quiet, looking about ready to rip her own hair out in aggravation. Her expression would relax, and she'd look at Liz almost wistfully, shaking her head. "No," she said with a sigh. "No, he can't get what I need."

"Why not?"

"Because," Susan would say, walking past Liz towards the door. "It hasn't been invented yet."

ೡೡೡ

One major plus of working for Susan was that Susan more or less gave Liz free reign to do as she pleased. She even negotiated with the Brigadier for Liz to have her own mini-lab to conduct her own work and experiments. Liz was deeply appreciative, and spent most of her time there, doing her own thing. It was so nice that at times Liz would forget she was employed to work _for _Susan. Until, of course, Susan would come in search of her in need of her help on… something.

It amazed Liz how often she was called upon to help Susan with the most mundane of things. Sometimes they didn't even have a thing to do with science or aliens, but rather with very basic culture of modern day Earth.

More and more Liz was realizing that Susan really _was_ an alien, because the girl just didn't know how to be human.

She knew the intricate workings of the British government. She knew every inch of the schooling systems around the world, and how they stacked up against each other. She knew when cavemen discovered fire and when the dodo bird went extinct. She knew Big Things, so to speak. Technicalities. The kinds of things that one could absorb from a textbook.

But certain human habits and interactions left Susan terribly confused.

"I don't understand," Susan bemoaned to Liz one day. "I _told _him, I'd just eaten, so why in the world would he ask me if I wanted dinner?"

Liz burst out laughing. "Susan!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. "He was asking you out on a date!"

Susan's eyes widened. She was stunned. "What? _Really_?"

"Yes," Liz replied, laying her hand on Susan's shoulder. "Don't they have dates on your home planet?"

Susan's wince didn't go unnoticed. Liz merely chose not to comment on it.

"Well, I mean… yes, but not like that. And besides, if he wanted a date, he should have just said so! How was I supposed to know that's what he was asking?"

Liz's eyes were twinkling with mirth. "Oh, you probably broke poor Benton's heart."

Susan blushed, turning her head away and giving a small shrug. "Sorry."

ೡೡೡ

"How long do you plan to keep up with this silent treatment?" Liz asked, casting a somewhat worried glance in Susan's direction. Susan pointedly ignored her. Liz sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead and shaking her head, dismayed. Honestly, sometimes Susan really did act like such a child. "Come on, Susan. You can't stay mad at him forever. He had his reasons, I'm sure."

"I know." And that was it.

Liz rolled her eyes. "If you know, then why do you keep acting this way?"

Susan wasn't looking at her. She was staring past her, at the blue police box that was stationed in the corner of Susan's work room. Liz had asked about it on her first day at work, and Susan had explained that it was her spaceship. Liz, of course, didn't believe that at first, but had come to accept that it must be the truth after weeks of watching Susan disappear into the box for hours on end with various tools and equipment that she claimed was to be used to fix the machine – she called it a TARDIS – and get it running again. Liz hadn't ever seen the inside, and only knew that it must've been much bigger on the inside, somehow. It made no sense, and yet at the same time it was the only explanation that did.

Sometimes, like now, Susan would simply stare at it with a strange sense of longing lingering about her. Liz didn't know much of anything about Susan's past, or the places she'd been, but this TARDIS was important to her. That much was clear.

"I just can't help wondering," Susan said suddenly, breaking the silence Liz hadn't even noticed had descended upon them. "What could I have done differently? How could I have kept them alive?"

"I'm not sure there was anything you could have done," Liz pointed out. "The Brigadier has a tendency to be quite pig-headed about these things. I doubt anything you could have said or done would have stopped him, short of handcuffing yourself to the Silurian base."

Susan's fingers were tapping lightly against her thighs. She was picking up habits from Liz, it seemed. "It's just," she said with a sigh, slumping in her seat, "it's just that I know that… I know that grandfather could have done something. He could have saved them. I'm _sure_ of it."

Liz's eyebrows rose. "I remember the Brigadier mentioned him. What do you think he could have possibly done that would have been better?"

"I don't know!" Susan snapped back. "If I knew, this wouldn't have happened!"

She continued to stare sadly at the TARDIS, with Liz staring at her with concern. She couldn't remember ever seeing Susan like this. She'd seen the Susan who was marvelously brilliant and resourceful and intelligent, and the Susan who was uncomfortable and unsure of herself and therefore easily irritated. She'd seen the Susan who was nervous and tried so hard to build up her confidence and courage. She'd seen the Susan who was polite and sweet and kind, but never before had she seen the Susan who was distant and sad and melancholy as she was now. Liz wasn't too sure how to feel about it. It made Susan seem so… well, _human_. And no matter how much she looked and acted human, in the back of Liz's mind she always had the constant reminder that Susan **was not human**.

"Whatever did happen to your grandfather?" Liz asked, carefully. She'd wondered for some time about the mysterious old man of Susan and the Brigadier's stories, but had never directly breeched the topic with her.

Susan laughed, bitterly, shaking her head. "I'm not too sure, really. We were separated some time ago, on Gallifrey – that's our home planet, by the way. The two of us had been travelling together for several years, constantly on the run from our people." Liz opened her mouth to interrupt her, to question her, but Susan didn't give her the chance and kept going. "But eventually they caught up to us. Grandfather was taken back to Gallifrey but I managed to escape with the TARDIS. I meant to go back and rescue him but instead…" She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the TARDIS and Liz understood.

"And that's why you're so intent on fixing it," Liz stated, matter-of-factly. Susan nodded.

"Quite." She crossed her arms on the table and leaned to rest her chin on them, sighing heavily. "In the meantime, I aim to do good by him, the absolute best that I can, so that when I find him again, I can be a person he can be proud of."

"That's admirable. But as I said, there isn't much you can do about the Brigadier."

"I know," Susan muttered. "I know."

Liz didn't doubt that Susan knew. She only doubted that she really understood.

ೡೡೡ

Susan wasn't exactly the most fashion conscious person in the world. Not that Liz had any real problem with this, but it was grating on Susan's nerves that people kept mistaking her for a boy.

"I'm not _that _boyish!" she declare in an angry huff. "And I don't dress like a boy, either!"

"You don't dress overtly feminine, either," Liz pointed out. "Shapeless tops, trousers… really, Susan, you could at least grow your hair out if it bothers you so much. At that length, it's no surprise people make that mistake! Be thankful your voice's so light and girlish."

Susan pouted at her for a moment, then leaned back in her seat, looking Liz up and down and Liz suddenly felt very, _very _self-conscious, and she couldn't pin-point why. She never felt this way when men looked at her. She couldn't care less what they thought of her. But Susan was different. Somehow.

"What is it?"

"Oh it's just, you're so pretty," Susan commented, offering Liz a light smile. Liz rolled her eyes. "What? You are! I mean, you're hair, and you just… you dress so well." She eyed Liz's short skirt and shook her head, sadly. "I'd never be able to pull of that kind of look. Never."

"Don't sell yourself so short, Susan," said Liz, trying to draw attention away from her pink cheeks. "I'm flattered that you think I look nice, but you're not _ugly_, not by a long shot. In fact, I think you're quite charmingly adorable."

Susan's eyes widened and her cheeks grew brighter as well. She glanced down at her lap, nervously, then looked back up at Liz. "Really?" she asked, her voice quite, amazed. "You think so?"

Liz nodded, grinning widely. "Absolutely."

ೡೡೡ

"Grandfather and I," Susan told Liz one day, "had two friends that travelled with us. Ian and Barbara. They were my schoolteachers, once upon a time. Truly wonderful people, they were. They were the first humans I was ever really close to."

And there it was, another reminder. "Whatever happened to them?"

"Oh, they made it home eventually," replied Susan, off-handedly. "Honestly, the life of a time-traveler wasn't for them, though they truly did enjoy it, I believe. But they were such a joy to have with us. In… in many ways, they were like a pair of surrogate parents for me. Barbara was always looking out for me, you see. They had a great influence on Grandfather, too. You see, Grandfather didn't care for humans. He thought they were silly and ignorant and primitive, and, well, they rather _are _but Grandfather couldn't truly hate someone who cared for me so, much as he tried to. They're presence and their _humanity _had a great impact on him, I think."

"You speak of them so fondly," Liz pointed out, smiling. Susan had a tendency to ramble sometimes, a trait she claimed came from her wayward grandfather. It was rather endearing. Even when she went off on tangents, Susan always carried herself like an adult, and she spoke so clearly, eloquently, and thoughtful, more so than some of the professors Liz had worked with who were twice Liz's age.

More and more Liz found herself caught up in Susan's words, the worlds she illustrated for Liz, the far-off adventures she and her grandfather had had before she arrived here, and Liz found herself almost embarrassed for having ever judged Susan based on appearances. She looked young, surely, no doubt about hit, but her mind was old, learned. Susan was far from young, at least by human standards, as Susan was wont to point out. 'I'm still just a baby by my people's standards!' she always made a point of telling Liz. Which frankly speaking _terrified _Liz because if someone as smart as Susan was still just an infant to them, then what must an adult Time Lord be like? It was staggering to think about.

A sudden thought crossed Liz's mind and she frowned. "Susan."

Susan glanced at her. "Hmm?"

"This Ian and Barbara. How long ago were you separated from them?"

There was a pause as Susan did the math in her head. Eventually she just shrugged. "Hard to say, exactly. Time travel does that for you, you lose track of when you are. But a few years ago, now."

"And you still remember them." Susan nodded. "Will you still remember me, do you suppose? Years from now when I'm old and you're still the same."

Susan's eyebrows rose in surprise. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to respond to that. She couldn't deny the truth in the sentiment. She'd proven her true age over and over again, and yet here she was, still looking so youthful. One day Liz would be on her deathbed and Susan might not look a day over twenty-five.

Finally, Susan nodded. "Of course I'll remember you, Liz. How could I not? You're… well, you're unforgettable."

Liz laughed at that. "I sure hope so!"

"Really," Susan continued, staring at Liz as though she was amazed Liz truly cared. "Of course I'll remember you. I always remember. I remember everything."

The way Susan spoke sent a strange shiver down Liz's spine. There was a sense of fear in her words, and Liz could only imagine that the things Susan had seen, the things that she couldn't forget, on those strange worlds on the other side of the universe must've been just as horrible as they were wonderful.

"You know, Liz," Susan said, taking a few steps towards her. "When I fix the TARDIS… you could always come with me, you know. You could travel with me."

Liz laughed again. "You're joking."

"No, really. I mean it. I'd love for you to come with me," Susan said, her voice strong, leaving no room for doubts. "Oh, Liz, you'd _love _it, trust me! It's… there's just so much to see out there, so much to do. So many wonders you can't even begin to dream of! And what's more, it travels in time! You can see the past, the future, anything you'd like, anywhere and when you'd like! It's… it's amazing, Liz, oh _please _tell me you'll consider it."

She made it sound so ideal. So… wonderful.

But Liz knew better than to believe that.

"I can't," she said, softly, shaking her head. "I can't. That's just not the life for me."

"But Liz!" Susan exclaimed, alarmed. "Are you listening to me? Do you have any idea what kind of life you could have?"

"Yes, I do have something of an idea. And I can honestly say, I'm not interested."

"But _why_?!"

Susan was so close to Liz now, reaching out to grip her sleeve tightly, as if terrified she was going to disappear right then in front of her. Her eyes were wide and determined and so, so _sad_. The idea of traveling alone scared her out of her wits- but she was her grandfather's Susan, after all. Travelling was in her blood. She _needed _to be out there among the stars just as much as Liz needed to be here on Earth.

And for some reason that truly broke Liz's heart.

She had known from day one what Susan planned to do; that she planned to repair her TARDIS and leave. And at the time she was okay with that. Now she wasn't. Now the idea of not having Susan here with her was… strange. Hard to grasp. Susan's presence in her life, while wholly unconventional, was so natural.

And Susan, she… she had such a _presence. _The girl could fill up a room with her smile in a way Liz never thought possible. And Liz had become so attached to her. But one day Susan would finish repairing the TARDIS. Of this Liz had no doubts anymore. Susan was the kind of girl that if she put her mind to it, it was _going _to happen, even if it took her YEARS to finish. She was going to fix it, and she was going to leave to a place Liz just couldn't follow her to. Earth was home for Liz. No where else in the universe would ever quite compare.

Susan wasn't even gone yet but her absence weighed heavily on Liz's mind. She hadn't been expecting that all. When had she grown to care so much?

Susan was still close to her, still holding on to her. She was leaning close, standing on her tip-toes to put herself more on Liz's level so that Liz could feel her breath on her throat, brushing against her chin as she tilted her head down to look Susan in the eye. It struck her then that Susan really wasn't cute, she was _pretty_, unconventionally so but pretty nonetheless and one day, maybe a hundred or more years from now, she'd look a beautiful woman- an adult body to match an adult mind, and for a brief, shocking moment Liz felt the desire to kiss her, to hold her, to tell her never to leave, to live a normal human life on Earth with her. 'Think of all the things we could do here,' she'd say. And it could have been lovely.

It could have been, but it wasn't. Liz held herself back and once again shook her head.

ೡೡೡ

Things weren't quite the same after that.

They didn't talk as much, if at all, about anything other than work. They still argued with the Brigadier, still went on missions and battled aliens and all that good stuff that came with being a part of UNIT, but nothing personal every really came up between them again.

Not until the day Susan fixed the TARDIS and Liz finally admitted to herself that somewhere along the line she'd fallen in love.

There was nothing in the world quite like seeing the one you love about to leave forever into the great unknown vortex of intergalactic travel. Susan had already bid the Brigadier and the others a half-goodbye. She didn't really have the heart to tell them she was leaving for good, after all, partially because they'd grown to be something like her family and partially because she seemed worried the Brigadier wouldn't let her leave. So instead she bid them goodnight as if it were a normal occurrence and then headed back into the lab under the pretense that she'd forgotten something, and asked Liz to come help her find it.

Liz figured the truth out once they were inside the lab and she saw the TARDIS had been moved into the center of the room. There was a strange… energy flowing from it, an aura that surrounded it that made it seem as it were really _alive_ in a way it had never appeared before.

And that was because it was fixed. Which meant Susan was leaving.

"It didn't take quite as long to fix as I suspected it would," Susan told her, circling the TARDIS with a proud look on her face, admiring her handiwork. "The damage wasn't quite as bad as I'd thought."

"It looks lovely," Liz said, blankly. What else could she say? "Your hard work has definitely paid off."

"It certainly has," Susan agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "And now that it has, I'm off to save Grandfather."

Silence fell between them as Susan stopped pacing in front of the TARDIS doors and turned to face Liz, and Liz was taken aback at how much older Susan looked standing there, how much wiser her eyes seemed. Even more surprising for her was the feeling of overwhelming adoration she felt towards the gi- no, the _woman _standing before her now. The feeling of love, and she wondered when in the world that had happened and why it had to be so meaningless.

Liz wasn't the kind of person to selfishly ask Susan to stay. Not when her grandfather needed her. And when it came right down to it, love wasn't enough of a reason for her to just abandon her life and her hopes and her dreams that she'd worked so hard for her entire life. She'd come too far to throw it away for the universe.

"I don't suppose," Susan said, oblivious to the inner turmoil going on inside Liz at that moment, "that you might've changed your mind? That you've reconsidered and will come with me."

"I've thought about," Liz admitted, truthfully. "But I still… I _can't_, Susan, you have to understand that. I'm not like you. The wonders of the universe might be what you want to see in your life, but it's not what I want to see, it's not what _I _want to do, and I can't just up and leave my world behind for this." She paused. "For you."

"I see," Susan said, sighing, her gaze lowered to the floor. "I understand." She turned and opened the TARDIS door, stepping up inside it and turning around to face Liz one last time. "Then this is goodbye, Liz Shaw." She smiled, sadly. "I wish you a long and happy life."

In some kind of fairytale, this would be the part where Liz confessed. Where Liz changed her mind, threw caution to the wind and leapt aboard the TARDIS for adventures full of love and hope and wonder. And she and Susan would stay together, and Liz would see Susan fall in love with her, and together they'd rescue the Doctor and head out among the stars. In some kind of fairytale, this would be the moment when things changed suddenly and a happy ending would somehow come along.

But this wasn't a fairytale, and Liz just returned Susan's sad smile. "You as well, Susan Foreman. I wish you luck in saving your grandfather."

Susan's smile widened a bit in gratitude. "Thank you." She titled her head to the side and spoke softly. "One day," she said, "I shall come back." Pause. Smile. "Yes, I shall come back. I promise." And with that she disappeared into the TARDIS. For a few moments there was nothing but then a strange whirring filled the air, and Liz watched in silence amazement and horror as the TARDIS flickered slowly in and out of existence before at last it disappeared, leaving no traces behind that it had never really been there at all.

Liz stood a few minutes longer, staring at the vacant space. Just as quickly as she'd come, Susan was gone. Liz wasn't sure whether she really believed in Susan's promise, though to a point, she figured, it didn't much matter. Susan would come and go as she pleased. Liz's life would go on, as it always had. All she could do now was wish Susan the best and hope that she'd left a mark on Susan just as Susan had left on her. There had been something there between them, after all, some strong, whatever it was.

Strong. But not earth-shattering.


End file.
